


I Thought You Were My Hero

by carswell-thorne-is-my-precious (anonof5puns)



Category: Lunar Chronicles - Marissa Meyer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-12
Updated: 2015-02-12
Packaged: 2018-03-11 23:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3336383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonof5puns/pseuds/carswell-thorne-is-my-precious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oneshot. Cresswell. Carswell Thorne has a nightmare about Cress and wonders if he really deserves her; Cress arrives just in time to clear some of his misconceptions about why she likes him. Rated teen and up for kind of graphic blood in the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Thought You Were My Hero

**Author's Note:**

> I've never really posted on AO3 before so... I'm not very good at this. I think I like AO3 a little more than ff.net because AO3 gives me a lot more liberties with fanfic, but ff.net has so much more fanfiction... well. I'm giving it a shot here. :)

And then Carswell Thorne is tossing and turning back and forth and back and forth and back and forth in his sleep. Suddenly, he can see, and he doesn't like the first sight that greets him, with its faded edges and slightly whitewashed colors and the funny vividness but vagueness at the same time that accompanies his dreams.

Cress is sitting in front of him, but her image is too blurry - he knows it's all here because of a thirty-second encounter that has faded into the deepest recesses of his memory - she has long blonde hair and her face shifts back and forth between slightly different versions of what her face could look like. Something inside Thorne feels guilty that he can't remember her face even though she means so much to him, even though she has helped him so much and he owes her so much more.

Cress's mouth and eyes are covered in a bandanna and she looks afraid - not that Thorne knows what fear would look like on her, but he can tell, even with the covered eyes and the covered mouth, in her posture and her clenched fists and her hunched shoulders. It shocks him that he knows so much about her; something _pings_ , a warning in the back of his mind, but he disregards it in fear as Levana steps out from behind Cress, into the light.

"Thorne, save me," Cress somehow speaks through the gag, and Levana laughs a high, twisted laugh. Thorne is frozen, rooted in place by something he can't shake - he needs to get to Cress, needs to save her, she thinks he's a _hero_ , she's _relying on him_ for this, what is Levana going to do to her, he has to get to her he has to get to her he has to get to her he _has to_!

But he can't. Nothing moves. The gleam in Queen Levana's eye grows more menacing, and then she acts.

"Thorne!" Cress screams as her own hands unwillingly come up to her own face, slowly and jerkily pulling up and then pushing in and then pulling down - Cress's short nails still scratch too-deep gouges into her face, blood drizzling from her cheeks like tears as she screams, a shrill sound that puts every fiber in Thorne's body in overdrive. He cannot hear that sound again, he will not hear that sound again, there is no way he can hear that sound again, he will _die_ if he hears her scream again. He knows. How is this friendship? He doesn't know if it even is.

Rivulets of tears are making their way past the bandanna into the gashes on her cheeks, dripping like the blood, and _Cress_ \- _his_ Cress, the sweet innocent girl who helped him and trusted him and loved him without any doubt at all - she is being mauled by Levana and Thorne can only stand, can only stand still and watch as Cress's hands move to her face again, tearing at the same wounds. Her bandannas falls from her eyes and mouth to rest around her neck and the bloodshot, tear-stained orbs that stare in horror at the blood on her hands only grow wider as she screams in pain again, and she's not just screaming, she's screaming and crying _his name_.

 _Thorne_. Even now, after he allowed her to hurt herself so brutally, she still loves him. And she screams his name yet again as Levana makes Cress reach her hands up and start tugging at her hair with superhuman strength until it starts to come off in chunks.

Thorne feels something inside him snap, and when Cress stops crying and spits out blood and starts to sob again, Thorne sobs with her, stuck where he is, paralyzed. His sight is so cruel. How could he have ever wanted it? He has to watch the girl he cares so much for go through so much pain, and so he closes his eyes. But Cress's next utterance makes his eyes dart open faster than they closed.

"I thought you were a hero," Cress says, and something is broken in her voice and her _blue blue blue_ eyes stare back at him with something deeper than betrayal in them. Levana reaches forward and slips a knife into Cress's hands. The little girl doesn't notice, but Thorne does. He welcomes the blade. He would take death to prevent himself from seeing her hurt herself anymore, he would take death to take away the raging guilt that is burning through his body, because _she thought he was a hero and he wasn't one_.

He failed her. His Cress. The only girl that he'd never want to fail, ever, and now she's staring at him with blood running down her cheeks and that pit that sinks lower than betrayal in her eyes and he wants to get away from this, now.

"I thought you'd be able to save me." Each muttered word is an individual stab in Thorne's gut. The hand wielding the knife comes up, and Cress doesn't even notice. Thorne knows Levana's manipulating her. He knows that Cress doesn't care anymore, he knows she's not fighting it.

 _Don't you see why I told you not to love me?_ Thorne tries to scream. _I won't be able to save you. I'm not a hero. I'd never be able to save you. I just fail. Every time._

But Thorne _wants_ to be a hero. He _wants_ to save her. He _wants_ to succeed; he _wants_ to. For her. He'd do any of it for her.

"I thought you were a hero," Cress whispers again as the hand with the knife rises, and Thorne is ready to welcome the blade but then her hand twists and starts to slowly descend towards Cress's stomach. And then the bile is rushing into Thorne's throat and panic is icing his veins, because he can gladly die _but Cress cannot die_.

BUT HE CANNOT MOVE! The movement of the knife is so agonizingly slow but Cress cries and hisses as the tears touch the gashes on her face.

"Save me, Carswell," Cress weeks out - his first name is a blow to the gut because _he is not a hero_. He cannot save Cress, and he can't move, and it's all his fault, and he'll never be a hero. And the knife's going to move faster and faster and then she's going to be dead and it'll be all his fault, because he's not a hero and she trusted him to be a hero and he _failed_ her, even though he wants to do it right for her, just once. When Cress will need him most, he won't be there. Like now.

"Thorne, I THOUGHT YOU WERE MY HERO!" and Cress lets out a cry of pain as the knife pierces her skin. Then a grand pause. Cress's hands pull the knife away slowly, jerkily, and Thorne thinks she's done it, she's done it, she's done it! She's _done_  it!

But then Cress's eyes go bolt-wide and she lets out a small gasp and the knife rockets back into her ch -

Carswell Thorne tumbles awake, clawing at his sheets with the feeling of tears running down his face. The constant darkness swallows him more than usual this time because all he sees against the black backdrop of everything is Cress's bloodied face, her fearful blue eyes as she tries to wrestle the knife from her chest.

_I thought you were a hero._

"Cress!" Thorne screams, because the panic has filled him so greatly and desperately that his heart has begun to pound - he scrambles to his feet, falling on his face twice, but he doesn't care as he keeps shouting her name as loud as he can because he needs her here, dead or alive or somewhere in between. He's not her hero but maybe she can be his for one moment, because her terrible words are echoing over and over and over and over again in Thorne's mind and he can't bear it anymore. He needs her to be there. "Cress!" _Cress. Please_.

He falls from his bed to the floor and hits his hip really hard on the edge but he doesn't even notice as he screams her name again because how will he find Cress without _Cress_? She is the only one who has been able to guide him, she is his eyes, she is his Cress. He needs her here, so much. He can't bear the thought of the blood on her face and his immobility.

_I thought you were a hero._

"Cress! Cress! _Cress_!" His screams fade to blubbering sobs as he collapses on his knees by the headboard, unable to feel his way past anything, because he just needs _her_.

And then - _and_ _then_ he hears small footsteps pattering down the hallway and he cries in relief, stumbling to his feet.

"Cress! _Cress_!" Now his cries are exulting as she gasps out, "Carswell?" but still finds her way into his arms, where Thorne can keep her safe and be her hero just for this second. His body is curled so much over her that she bends backwards while Thorne's hands make their way up her arms and to her face. He runs his fingers in panic through her hair, over her cheeks, her chin, her neck. There are no sticky remnants of blood, no rough scars of the encounter, no signs of anything except for a small hitch of breath from Cress. It _was_ a dream.

"Cress, you're okay," Thorne whispers, pulling her face close to his - he hears her gasp. He doesn't care. He can't even be her hero; heroes are brave and selfless. Thorne is not selfless - he is so selfish that he pulls Cress tighter and tighter against him and presses his lips to her hair once, twice, three times. Cress's arms wind around his body and she curls her face into his chest as Thorne cries, hitching out sobs into her hair and then her shoulders as Cress pulls him into his bed and curls her arms around him and lets him continue to cry for long minutes.

When he's burned himself out, and Cress hasn't stopped rubbing his back and holding him against her, Thorne gently pulls away. Sniffles a bit, and then hugs her again, really long and slow. He tries to pour out his thoughts into the hug, tries to tell her that he's realized it now, he knows. He wants to be her hero, he just... he just can't. He's not good enough for her and even though he'd die for her he's not her hero. He'll fail her when she needs him most and he doesn't deserve her love, not in a million years.

"Carswell, do you want to talk about it?"

He shakes his head no and buries his face into her shoulder again, hugging her tight. She's here and she's alive and she's okay and that's all that matters to him. Nothing else. Nothing else will ever matter to him for a long time. He just wants her here. Just wants assurance that she's safe.

"Bad dream?" Cress whispers. Thorne wants to laugh. There's his stubborn Cress, still talking about it even though he said no.

He nods against her shoulder. Cress sighs a little, and Thorne holds her tighter against him. He wants to keep hugging her, tighter and tighter and tighter. He thought he wouldn't ever truly _care_ about a girl, ever, but here he is with Cress, hoping against all hope that maybe he _can_ be the hero that she thinks he is. Then he pushes the thought aside. He's no hero.

"What happened in the dream?" Cress says. Thorne doesn't respond.

"Carswell, it's okay. You can tell me."

"I don't want to," he whispers. "I really, honestly, don't want to tell you what happened."

"All right, then," she says quietly, and she sounds a little hurt. "I'll go." She makes to move away from his embrace, but Thorne pulls her back into his arms.

"I said I didn't want to tell you, not that I didn't want you to stay here," he breathes out and he hears Cress's breath hitch and her exhale shutters out of her. A flare of pride bursts in his stomach but Thorne immediately pushes that down. He is a womanizer with every woman but Cress - she doesn't deserve that.

"Levana was torturing - you," Thorne gasps out. "She was controlling you with her Lunar manipulation and she made you... made you..." and without his control, his throat starts to ache when he tries to swallow and his eyes water up. "Stars," he mutters.

"I couldn't move," he continues. "You were telling me that you thought I was a hero and I wanted to tell you that I'm not. I'm not a hero and I'll never be a hero, because I couldn't move just a little bit and prevent you from killing yourself. If that's what a hero's supposed to do then we're screwed."

And he knows that tomorrow he's going to be so embarrassed but right now he can't control the tears that are dragging their way down his face like Cress's tears in the dream, or her blood. And then _real_ Cress's fingers come up and gently swipe his tears away; the small and soft pads of her fingers and the feeling he gets shuttering across his whole body when she touches him makes him wish he can see just for a second, right there, see the look of concern on her face or the look of love, see her as close as he can feel her breath on his face.

"I like you, Cress," Thorne decides to finally confess. "I like you, _a lot_ , probably nearly as much as you li- used to like me, and I'm sorry that you're stuck with someone who doesn't deserve you. You deserve someone better than me, someone who can be a hero. And I'm... not."

"What if I don't want you to be a hero?" Cress whispers, and something in her words makes Thorne's longing for sight so palpable in his stomach and his gut. He wants to see her. _Has_ to see her.

"What does that mean?" he asks.

"I don't like you because you're a hero, Carswell," Cress says, and something in the back of Thorne's brain registers the present tense, "I like you because you're _you_. In the desert, you got me to keep walking and you didn't stop even though you were blind and probably more thirsty than me. And I saw you, Carswell. You wouldn't drink anything, just leave me all the water. Even though you don't even think you're a hero, you are. It's not the big things that make you a hero, Carswell, it's all of the little things that add up. You... you kissed me before you thought we were going to die - you kept that promise, even if guards could have shot at us right there and killed us. You _are_ a hero. You don't have to do big, impressive things to be a hero. Besides." She makes a sound that sounds like dismissal. "I don't even care about you being a hero or not. I care about you being Carswell Thorne. You're Carswell, and I really like you. More than you think I did. And -"

"You wanna know something?" Thorne says, and he feels his charisma return because that's what Cress likes. He likes Carswell Thorne. The guy who's weepy when he's having traumatizing nightmares about the girl he has a crush on, then who turns charismatic and flirty when he wants to be. _Thorne. Be Thorne,_ he thinks to himself.

"What?" Cress says, and her voice sounds like she's smiling, so Thorne feels her lips and yes, they're turned at the corners in a grin. He lets his hands rest on the sides of her face, and he brings himself close, until he can feel her breathing jerk in front of him.

"I really want to kiss you right now," Thorne says. _Be Thorne._ "Can I?"

"Of course," Cress breathes, and then he's kissing her and they're not in the middle of death and it's not rushed and it's slow, languid. Thorne leads the way, tilting his head and wrapping his hands around her waist.

"What do I do now?" Cress whispers as he pulls away. She's been sitting with her hands at her sides, and Thorne realizes she doesn't know what to do.

"Don't you watch all your net dramas?" Thorne teases, leaning closer, and he feels Cress's pout against her lips.

"I didn't know that I should do that in real life," she says. "Besides, it's different every time I watch."

"You can put your hands around my neck, around me, or in my hair like this," Thorne says, and he takes Cress's hands and laces her fingers through his hair, pulling himself so close that Cress's lips move when he talks. "Let's try," he says, and when he kisses her, Cress's hands tighten in his locks and a heady rush pulses into Thorne's veins. He tilts his head to deepen the kiss, and Cress reciprocates, twisting his hair in her hands, and Thorne kisses her deeper, harder, tightening his hands around her waist. Then he breaks away with a gasp.

"Stars, Cress, don't do that to me," he says, and he feels with his lips the shocked look on Cress's face, then pulls her down into the bed next to him so that she can lie down beside him, maybe sleep a little. He presses a kiss to her hair as Cress snuggles against his chest. Thorne imagines her dozing form and sighs. Maybe he'll get his sight back soon. He hopes.

He can't get enough of her, not that he knows now that she cares about him because he's _Thorne_ and not a hero, and even though he knows she deserves better, there's no one on this ship that is available. And maybe Thorne can let himself enjoy her before she finds a Lunar boy on her planet that deserves her more than Thorne ever will - after all, he's not a hero, and he can let himself be selfish, just for this little while.

.

.

.

**My first time writing TLC fanfic... it's hard writing a fanfic for a genre other than PJO, lol :D I've been trying to write Kaider, but I didn't get into the rhythm of the writing itself for Kai's POV (because I LOOOOOVE Kai's POV), and I haven't had any ideas lately, but this Cresswell idea just came to me and I HAD to write it. :) The ending is a little impromptu, because I had only thought of the beginning.**

**And obviously, Cress isn't going to find some Lunar boy that she likes better than Thorne. That's just Thorne's insecure side talking. :)**

**Anyways. Going to go back to the Kaider fanfic. Because I need to work on that. And I need to go back to eagerly waiting for Winter (GAD, NOVEMBER'S SO FAR AWAY).**

**find me on tumblr at carswell-thorne-is-my-precious . tumblr . com ! :)**

 

 

 


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